Facade: His and His Circumstances
by Yakin-Duel
Summary: [TezukaFuji] The story of foolish circumstances created by two even more foolish boys.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Tennis no Oujisama/ Prince of Tennis

**Pointless Rambling no. 1: **I just recently finished the anime and decided to try my hand at writing a POT/TNO fanfic. This is my take on the whole relationship between Tezuka Kunimitsu and Fuji Syusuke, from post-anime to the end of the anime. Will contain spoilers, shounen-ai, and rating is subject to go up. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks a bunch!

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**Façade: His and His Circumstances**

--00. Prologue--

**Tezuka**

It began, at least for Tezuka Kunimitsu, out of curiosity, and maybe a little bit of reverence. It quickly spiraled out of control largely due to fear. Looking back on it now, he had to admit it was the strangest way for a relationship to begin, but to say the least; the relationship itself was by far one of the strangest he had ever been in.

He was fifteen then, in his first year at Seishun Gakuen, like any other club, the tennis club looked down upon freshmen recruits as if they were trash, while most of them were, Tezuka certainly wasn't, and he wasn't really eager to let it on to anyone.

But having such a secret heightened his awareness more than ever, he watched everyone with the eyes of a hawk. His senpais, for fear that they would find out, his contemporaries, for fear that they would find out, his coach and captain, for the same reason.

Yamato-buchou had allowed free match practice that day, because it was Thursday, it was a foggy sort of day, and the ground was a little bit damp, from the moisture in the air. It was the day that he came.

It was the second week of school. Their flamboyant captain slung an arm around the newcomer's shoulders and introduced the skinny, smiling boy. "Everyone, I'm delighted to introduce to you a new member, he just moved here from Kyushu."

Tezuka was jogging laps, so he just caught a part of the boy's name when he went past the entrance of the tennis cage. "…Fuji. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

He gave it almost no thought and turned his eyes back on the dirt track ahead. Which was ironic, because one day not in the far future, Tezuka Kunimitsu would fear this boy, love this boy and be ruined by this boy. This boy would become his everything, and now, he couldn't have cared less.

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**Fuji**

The first thing fifteen-year-old Fuji Syusuke thought about the bespectacled, expressionless boy running laps outside the courts was not that the boy would be good in bed. Those thoughts would come much later.

He vaguely remembered feeling simply intrigued, since everyone else was gathered here, and practice hadn't even started yet. Had the boy gotten into trouble already? After he had bowed and introduced himself, he slipped off into the crowd and tapped a boy who had spiky hair and wore thick glasses. "Excuse, why is he running? Is he being punished" he asked, gesturing toward the running boy.

"Oh, him." Flipping through the green-covered notebook he was carrying, the boy he had asked replied, "That's Tezuka. Tezuka Kunimitsu. He always runs three laps before practice begins, sometimes four, if he's in a good mood."

"Is he a freshman?"

"Yes, but he's probably better than Yamato-buchou, you should have been here yesterday when they had a match, it was incredible."

"What were the results?" Fuji wanted to know.

"It was a draw, because they didn't go into the tiebreak. But had they gone ahead and go through with it, there was an 63 percent chance that Tezuka would have won by three points." The boy closed his notebook and stuck out his hand, "I'm Inui, Inui Sadaharu."

They shook hands. But Fuji's eyes trailed to Tezuka, who had apparently finished his laps and was lingering at the back of the crowd.

For Fuji Syusuke, it began as a challenge, a need for dominance, and perhaps a shadow of obsession. It began as a simple game designed to keep himself occupied. It spiraled out of control because he wanted to believe.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Tennis no Oujisama/Prince of Tennis and the title, well, at least three-quarters of it…

**P.R. no 2: **A big, huge, gignormous THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. Hope you like this chapter. Oh, and I forgot to mention last time that Seishun Gakuen and all of the other schools are now high schools instead of middle schools.

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**Façade: His and His Circumstances**

--Chapter One--

**Fuji**

Exactly why the object of his obsession turned out to be a person who spoke in sentence fragments, had an incredible lack of self-expression, and wore a poker face even when they were not playing poker was beyond even the ingenious Fuji Syusuke himself.

Exactly why he became obsessed was an entirely different story.

Maybe it was because he let his emotions run away with him. Perhaps it wasbecause Tezuka, even as he was being toyed with, was taking advantage of him as well, or possibly because really truly felt that way about Tezuka. Loved him, that is, but whatever it was, even Fuji himself didn't know the answer.

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**Tezuka **

He had found out the new boy's full name from Oishi.

"It's Fuji Syusuke." His friend had seemed quite animated. "Rumor has it that he's been playing tennis a long time too."

So now Tezuka knew the name and was unknowingly allowed a glimpse of the would-be prodigy's strength, but besides that, he knew little else. He didn't understand any of it. He didn't understand Fuji Syusuke at all. The only thing he understood about the cerulean-eyed boy, or at least so it seemed was how Fuji always watched him.

He was used to being watched and read, both inside and outside of tennis. But almost no one read him correctly, so that was all right.

They still did not talk, because the opportunity never came up, and Tezuka certainly wasn't that type to start idle conversation.

So he too, watched Fuji, much closer than he had watched anyone else in a long time, and enjoyed (as much as he hated to admit it) the unexpected warmth of the other's eyes on him.

The warmth he would learn to crave and fear.

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**Fuji **

When Fuji wanted to learn things about certain people, he was usually the one to take the first move; he liked to think of it as a game of chess. While it was true that the latter side to take offence had more advantages as far as observing their opponent went, Fuji didn't like to wait, nor did Tezuka seem like the type of person to take the initiative.

The first thing he would have to do, in this case, would be trying to talk to a human wall. Inui Sadaharu, who had seemingly become his unofficial tour guide into the ever so complex mind of Tezuka Kunimitsu overnight, warned him over and over about trying to reach such a goal.

"It's like trying to talk to a clothed Michelangelo statue with glasses." Inui said wearily. "We've all tried, and pretty much gotten nowhere, trust me, Fuji-kun."

"Who's 'we'?" Fuji said.

"Me, Kikumaru, Kawamura. His various fangirls from all three grades. I'd give you their names, but that'd take forever."

"Oh."

Yumiko, his older sister, who had just recently graduated from a nearby culinary institute, had packed him one of her famous sandwiches that day, but for some reason, Fuji didn't feel like eating. He broke the bread in half and offered one portion to Inui, "Want some?"

"There's a 84 percent chance that you don't believe a word I just said." Inui took the sandwich from him and set his notebook aside.

Fuji quirked a rather amused eyebrow, "…Something like that."

"But it's true." Inui bit into the sandwich, "The only person that Tezuka would voluntarily talk to is Yamato-buchou, and Oishi-kun sometimes, if they walk home together."

"Is that all part of your precious data too?" Fuji finally tore off a piece of bread and put it into his own mouth, "It all can be changed, right, Inui-kun? Like, somewhere in that notebook of yours, you must have the fact that Kikumaru-kun wears size 6 shoes, he's not going to wear size 6 forever, it's all going to be eventually be changed."

Inui looked surprised. "How did you…" his voice trailed off meaningfully. _Did you read my notebook?_

Fuji shrugged, "I saw his shoes in the locker room." _No, I didn't read your notebook, if I did, I would have picked out a more sensitive piece of data._

"I see." The boy with the thick-rimmed glasses nodded knowingly Suddenly, Inui seemed more respectful of him. "Before lunch, Tezuka has Biology, the classroom's the third one down the hall. He usually comes out this door. You could ask him to join us."

"Us?" Fuji blinked, slightly surprised.

"You don't think I'm going to leave you two alone with an opportunity of a lifetime at stake, do you?" Inui smirked. "But don't worry, I'll stay perfectly silent, and there's a 63 percent chance nothing will happen anyway."

Fuji smiled confidently. "Don't blame me if your calculations turn out to be inaccurate, Inui-kun."

"My calculations are never wrong." Inui returned decisively, "But then, there's a first for everything. Speaking of which, here he comes, Fuji-kun."

-----

**Tezuka**

When he neared them, the two boys sitting down in the clearing next to the science building immediately clammed up. That was his first clue that he was in danger. If not exactly danger, well, then something equivalent.

Inui Sadaharu. Fuji Syusuke. The former caused enough havoc by himself (and that notebook of his), joined by the latter, well, what troubles were ahead of him, Tezuka couldn't even began to fathom.

"Ne, Tezuka-kun, I know you're probably in a hurry to go off and train or run laps by yourself, but wouldn't it hurt if you join us for a little while and eat first?" Fuji asked.

Judging by the plastic sandwich wrap by the new boy's feet and the metal tin that lay forgotten a few feet away, it was clear that they had already finished eating.

Tezuka's gaze shifted from Fuji to Inui and finally back to Fuji again. The smiling face told him nothing, likewise, the face shielded by the infamous notebook and glasses did not tell him very much either. Still, he sensed that this whole setup was not what it appeared to be. "…I suppose." He at last relented and sat down next to Inui. The three of them now formed a sort of a scalene triangle.

Now feeling the slightest bit unnerved, and that emotion didn't come to him easily, Tezuka unwrapped his own lunch, to find sukiyaki from last night's dinner.

He stole a glance at Inui to see that the data specialist was busily scribbling away. Why was it that his misgivings kept increasing the longer he sat there? "Is there something you needed to discuss with me, both of you?" the question was asked in a desperate attempt to bring the situation back in control.

"Oh, come on, Tezuka-kun," Fuji slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "We're out of class now, do you always have to talk like a sixty-year-old professor? Try to act your age for once!"

Always…?

Considering the almost timid passing glances (on his part anyway) and the fact that they had never had an official conversation until today, how in the world did Fuji know how he always talked like? Maybe Inui told him.

Tezuka nodded, and bit into a piece of tempura because he could think of nothing else to say.

"That looks good, may I have some?"

For more reasons than one, he detested rhetorical questions. Tezuka nodded again and sat his lunch down and pushed it in Fuji's direction.

"...It's kind of weird saying this, but do you think I could borrow your chopsticks as well, Tezuka-kun? I really don't like getting my fingers dirty." Fuji inquired, ever so politely.

Inui's face was still largely hidden by the notebook, and the Algebra II textbook that appeared out of nowhere, but Tezuka could have sworn that the boy was laughing, or smirking, or both.

"…It's...leftovers." Tezuka doubted that there would ever be two words that were as stupid as those two that had just left his mouth. It didn't even have any bearings on the current topic of discussion.

The cerulean orbs stared unblinkingly back at him, challenging, he thought. "I don't care." Fuji shrugged one shoulder indifferently to emphasize his point.

"Here." Tezuka relinquished his chopsticks and for a minute, their fingers brushed, and remained in contact for a second longer than they should.

"Thanks." Fuji deftly speared the piece of tempura that Tezuka had bitten into earlier and ate what remained of it. After swallowing, he smiled, and gave the lunch tin and chopsticks back to Tezuka, and said, "It's good, even if it is leftovers."

That was where curiosity ended and fear began. Tezuka stood up abruptly, leaving his lunch uneaten, "I have to go. Please excuse me, Fuji, Inui."

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**Fuji **

"Nice going. I think you scared him off." Inui commented rather dryly. "Tezuka sat down for a duration of ten minutes, and spoke a total of twenty-two words, and three complete sentences, I still think my calculations were correct."

"This time they were, maybe." Fuji returned airily. "But we have to start somewhere."

The pencil scratching that had been going on during this whole conversation stopped unexpectedly. Inui slapped his notebook shut and stared at him strangely. "By 'we' you mean…"

There was an echo of words past, but this time, there was no answer to give. "I mean Tezuka-kun and I, of course, Inui-kun."

Inui touched a hand to his glasses, causing them to glint somewhat sinisterly. "I see."

But the other's tone clearly told Fuji that the other didn't see at all. That was all right with him. He'd be worried if Inui did see.

His twisted game began there and would continue on until it most unfortunately became life.


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Tennis no Oujisama/ Prince of Tennis and any phrase that I may accidentally use.

**P. R. no 3: **Yes! Another chapter done! I'm on a roll! Again, milk, cookies and Tezuka and Fuji plushies (and yes, I actually do have some) to all the reviewers, thank you so much! Merry (late) Christmas and happy New Year to everybody!

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**Façade: His and His Circumstances **

--Chapter Two--

**Tezuka**

No one knew he was left-handed, even against Yamato-buchou, he purposely used his right hand, even though it meant the chance of losing existed. It went the same way with the senpais he played. In fact, during school hours, he was so careful that he didn't even touch his tennis racket with his left hand.

Yet one way or the other, Fuji had known. Tezuka had always been the careful type, had he unwittingly slipped up somehow? Let down his guard so carelessly?

They were serving cleanup duty together that day, ironically, another Thursday, when Fuji brought up the subject.

"Ne, Tezuka-kun, may I ask you a kind of a personal question?"

It wasn't the question that bugged him, it was the adjective inserted in the question within the question. Tezuka looked up, but of course, the shorter boy's calm smile was etched firmly in place, "What?"

"Are you left-handed?"

…Left-handed? The only visible reaction that he showed was a slight twitching of the shoulders. He was relieved, Tezuka realized, that Fuji knew, perhaps, deep down, he was even happy that Fuji knew.

Fuji was staring at him like he expected some sort of violent outburst of denial.

"Yes, I am left-handed." He stated wearily and turned back to picking up wayward tennis balls, "But how'd you know? Not even Ryuzaki-sensei should know."

His reaction, or rather, his lack of one, no doubt surprised Fuji, for it shocked himself as well. Fuji put down the crate of balls he was holding and knelt down next to him. "Just lucky, I guess." He said lightly, "You don't want hurt the senpais' feelings, don't you?"

Tezuka's own query was never answered. "Hn." It wasn't like he expected an answer anyway. Whatever it was, he was certain that it wasn't luck.

"…You about done?" Fuji's ability to switch from topics that had almost nothing to do with one another was amazing, "We'd better hurry or else the gates will close. I'm going ahead."

"Aa, coming." Picking up his crate, Tezuka quickened his stride to catch up. Then he stopped, turned, and looked back at the empty tennis courts. The sun was setting.

"Tezuka-kun?" Fuji's voice sounded questioningly, somewhere in the distance.

"…I'm coming." He said quickly, though he didn't move. But now, the peaceful feelings he possessed not a mere five minutes ago about Fuji's knowing had evaporated completely for no particular reason. "Fuji?"

"Hm?"

"You won't…tell anyone about this, will you?"

For a minute, the other boy appeared bemused, and then he smiled reassuringly, "If Tezuka-kun doesn't want me to."

For all of Fuji's sadism and tricks, Tezuka felt that the promise could be kept. "Aa."

That was the first of many promises they would make, though none except this one would be kept.

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**Fuji**

He thought he saw the slightest flicker of a smile pass Tezuka's lips, but then, Fuji blinked and the borderline frown was back. "Aren't you even going to say thank you?"

Tezuka paused; he was a few steps ahead and turned back, "…Thank you, Fuji." he said quietly and started walking again.

Fuji had to jog easily to catch up, but he didn't mind. "You're welcome. Ne, do you walk home, Tezuka-kun?"

"I take the bus."

"…Is it far? The station, I mean."

"Not that far, two blocks." Tezuka glanced at him, vaguely perplexed. "Why? Don't you ride home with your sister?"

Fuji returned the query deftly with one of his own, "May I walk with you? I can just have neesan pick me up at the station."

"...Suit yourself." Tezuka shrugged indifferently.

The two of them fell silent, until Fuji couldn't stand it anymore and asked. "How many years have you been playing tennis, Tezuka-kun? I heard from Inui-kun that you tied with Yamato-buchou the other day."

Maybe it was just Fuji's imagination, but he thought Tezuka's shoulders stiffened. "…Seven come spring."

"I've been playing for eight." Fuji shifted his racket cover from one shoulder to the other. "But to tie with buchou…you must be very good."

"…Not everyone thinks so."

Fuji blinked, given the type of person Tezuka was, he'd expected a monotonous fragment of praise in return, yet… "Oh, you mean the senpais? You shouldn't let it get to you, back in Kyushu, things were like this for me too."

Tezuka didn't answer; he merely looked up at the orange-gray sky. "The bus is late." He said simply. "It should have been here five minutes ago."

"Saa…maybe it's stuck in traffic or something." Fuji returned idly.

"Maybe."

His sister's car rolled in sight right then and skidded to a stop in front of where he and Tezuka were standing. Yumiko smiled a smile of sudden relief when she rolled down the window, "I stopped by the school earlier, Syusuke, and I couldn't find you. Why didn't you give me a call if you decided to walk home?"

Fuji bowed gravely. "I'm sorry to worry you, neesan. I was just accompanying Tezuka-kun to the bus station and then I was going to call you."

"Well, never mind, at least I found you. We should go; Mom's going to be worried. I usually don't take this long picking you up."

Fuji hesitated, one hand on the car door, "Are you sure the bus will come, Tezuka-kun? What if it broke down?"

"It's all right," Tezuka replied, seemingly avoiding his gaze, "I can always call my grandfather. See you in school tomorrow."

"Are you sure? I'm sure neesan won't mind giving you a ride." Fuji stole a look at his sister, "Right?"

"As long as he doesn't live too far from home." She agreed. "Tezuka-kun, is it?"

"I appreciate your offer," Tezuka bowed slightly, "But I rather you didn't go through all the trouble on my behalf."

"Come, Syusuke." Yumiko said, "Let's go."

Fuji obliged, though somewhat reluctantly, "See you, Tezuka-kun."

A nod was all he received.

As they drove away, Fuji saw Tezuka lift a hand and wave. He waved back.

-----

**Tezuka**

Tezuka knew all too well that even though people made offers, they were pressuring you not to accept. The world was amusing that way. Yet Fuji's sister had been friendly enough, and Fuji had appeared disappointed that he didn't accept.

Perhaps he should have accepted after all.

After twenty minutes, however, the bus came, with the elderly driver sprouting apologies like a broken faucet. They had met a horrible accident a few stops ago, would the young sir please understand the situation please…

Tezuka nodded briefly, and when the driver failed to take the hint, the boy made his way to the back of the bus and read his Biology textbook for the rest of the way home. But his mind wasn't on underwater ecosystems, which was very understandable, for more reasons than one.

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**Fuji**

"Was that a college kid you were with?" Yumiko wanted to know as they pulled away from the curb.

"College kid…?" Fuji thought for a minute then laughed, "No, neesan, that was Tezuka. He's in the same grade as me. He wanted me to accompany him to the bus station so he won't be lonely."

His sister raised a mildly curious, yet knowing eyebrow, "…Or is it the other way around? Don't play around with me, Syusuke, I know you too well."

"Guilty." Fuji handily changed the subject, "But neesan, did Tezuka-kun really look like a college student to you?"

"Maybe when he grows another foot, I'd fall for him." Yumiko sighed, "Is he in the tennis club too, your friend?"

Friend? Fuji hadn't thought about Tezuka in such prospect before, but yes, he hoped they were friends. "Yeah, but I don't know how he stays in. The senpais are always picking on him more than the other first-years." he laid his head against the windowpane. "I find him interesting."

"You find everyone interesting, Syusuke." Yumiko interjected, half-teasing, yet half-serious as the same time. "And everyone you find interesting is scared to death of you, Saeki-kun aside."

"Neesan, you really hurt my feelings. Am I really so horrible?" Fuji said.

"…If I was lying, your feelings wouldn't be hurt." Yumiko's retort was alarmingly blunt.

"Saa…Tezuka-kun's especially interesting, then. May I at least say that?"

They stopped at a red light, so Yumiko had time to twist around and regard her younger brother with a hard stare, not saying anything.

"The light is green." Fuji warned her absently. "You better turn and drive."

"Syusuke, I don't understand you." A sigh, and then a very forced chuckle that faded away into another sigh.

Fuji suddenly looked down at his intertwined fingers with renewed interest, "I thought you knew me."

"I do, but knowing and understanding aren't the same thing."

Fuji drew his thumb lightly across his bottom lip; "I don't understand myself, often, I think."


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama and three fourths of my title.

**P.R. no 4: **Sorry everyone for not updating sooner, school's just been hell lately and obviously contracting writer's block doesn't help...

**Façade: His and His Circumstances**

--Chapter Three--

**Tezuka**

"Saa…what's going on here, everyone?" Yamato-buchou's voice cut smoothly through the curses and everything went silent. Deathly silent.

Tezuka didn't turn around and gasp with the rest of the senpais; he merely reached for his wayward glasses and put them back on. Ignoring the throbbing of his left arm, he got to his feet and faced his captain. "Yamato-buchou, I am quitting the tennis club."

Yamato looked down at him. Tezuka thought he heard a collective inhaling from all of the other members, undoubtedly waiting for him to denounce them. As tempting as that was, he resisted.

Yamato said, "Is that so? Then I thank you, Tezuka-kun, for the time and effort you've spent for this club. However, as I have yet to receive your resignation letter, you're still stuck running the 100 laps I'm assigning right now to everyone associated with this mess, myself included. You may begin running after you've paid a visit to the infirmary."

No one was looking at him, no one was even breathing, it seemed, waiting for the axe to fall, "Yes, buchou." He turned and walked toward the exit of the tennis cage. A huge group sigh of relief from the obviously guilt-ridden senpais followed.

"Tezuka-kun."

He turned.

"I overheard you and Oishi-kun talking about the Nationals the other day." Yamato told him simply.

Tezuka touched a hand to his glasses and nodded. "Yes." Nothing else needed to be said.

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**Fuji**

He was serving as Ryuzaki-sensei's errand boy that day, so Fuji hadn't been there when it happened. It was Kikumaru Eiji who bounded frantically into the office without knocking and broke the news. "Fuji, nya!" the up and coming acrobatic specialist leaned against the door to keep himself from collapsing.

Ryuzaki had left to check on the regulars, or so Fuji was told, and he was left with orders to put the files he had in his hands into some kind of chorological order. He dropped the files without thinking, ruining the handiwork of the past hour and knelt beside Kikumaru. "Eiji, what's wrong? Shouldn't you be at practice? Didn't sensei see you ditch?"

"Nya, I didn't see sensei." Kikumaru said between huge gulps of air, "But Fuji! Something terrible happened! Tezuka…he…"

At the mention of Tezuka's name, Fuji tensed and his 'perma-smile' (As called such by Yumiko) immediately slid off his lips, "What's wrong with Tezuka, Eji?"

"I don't know," Kikumaru shook his head, completely miserable, "I was just minding my own business collecting the balls from the matches you know, and then a huge group gathered around where Tezuka was minding his own business doing swings, and then…" he coughed.

Fuji got up and returned seconds later with a plastic cup half full of ice water, "Drink this, calm down, and then tell me." He ordered firmly.

Kikumaru obliged, coughed again and sat up, leaning against the wall. "Okay, so he was doing swings and like, the senpais just jumped him. I heard him yell something about how tennis rackets weren't used to hurt people and then Yamato-buchou showed up and assigned everyone 100 laps, including Tezuka and buchou himself. And then he sent Tezuka off to the infirmary."

Fuji took the plastic cup Kikumaru had been drinking out of and crushed it. When he opened his palm again, he saw faint traces of blood. "Is Tezuka hurt?"

"I couldn't tell, nya…I was too far away." Kikumaru's eyes suddenly grew wide, "…Nya, Fuji, are you bleeding?"

He was at last able to smile as he tossed the cup in the wastebasket beside Ryuzaki-sensei's desk, keeping his hand carefully out of sight. "Don't worry about it, Eiji, you should get back to the courts before they find out you're gone."

Kikumaru stood, "Nya," he shrugged, yet his eyes were still dark with worry, "I just thought you should know. That's all. See ya!" he ran off.

-----

The nurse took one look at his bleeding palm and sighed, "There's a sink in the office, you can wash your hands first and then there's a box of bandages in the cabinet above the sink." She sounded bored, as if she said this a thousand times a day.

"Thank you." Fuji nodded and walked in the room, he stopped short when he saw Tezuka, sitting on the bed reserved for the sicker patients, holding an icepack against his left arm, a little bit above the elbow. "…Tezuka-kun."

"…You lied to me." Tezuka didn't look at him. "…Fuji."

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**Tezuka**

He'd known all along that Fuji would come. But instead of the violent deluge of denials that were sure to follow, Fuji just blinked, "…What do you mean?" he asked, a little too calmly.

"I meant what I said." Tezuka was beginning to get the slightest bit unnerved, "You lied to me. You told the senpais about my hand, and yet you still had the guts to come like this. For that, I admire you."

Fuji shut the door, leaving it open just a crack and made his way over to the sink. "…Your hand? I never told the senpais anything about your hand." He said nothing else after that, letting the spurt of water from the faucet fill the awkward silence between them.

Tezuka stood abruptly, still holding the icepack. "I'm going back." He announced dully, if the circumstances were otherwise, he might have gotten angry, but now, he was only tired. "I still have a 100 laps to run before practice is over."

Iron-cast fingers clamped firmly around his wrist. Tezuka flinched. "Just say you believe me. I didn't tell them anything, I swear. Please…if only for this once…" Fuji's tone was a very odd mixture of desperation, sadness, and disbelief. "…At least pretend you believe me."

"Let go." Tezuka said faintly. And surprisingly the other boy obeyed. He looked at his wrist and was vaguely surprised at the dry traces of blood. "Why are you bleeding?" he asked warily.

"How else was I supposed to get in here? But don't worry, it's nothing serious. I'm more worried about you than about me." Fuji took a step backwards towards the sink. "Your arm looks very swollen."

The reply Fuji gave unexpectedly warmed him. But still the fact remained that he had lied, when he promised his silence. Tezuka sat back down on the bed and stared at his shoes. Being at a loss for words was a new experience for him, he was more used to thinking up long preambles inside his head and never saying anything.

Fuji seemed to sense what he was thinking. Though he made no move to touch Tezuka again, to hold him in place, his words alone were enough. "…I'll tell you one last time, you can either take it, or leave it. I had nothing to do with this. Even if you storm out of here and never talk to me again. I want to know you at least, pretended to believe me."

"Why should I believe you?" Tezuka countered guardedly.

"Because I never break any promises. I never have, and I will not start now." Fuji wore no smile, which was a first, at least, for Tezuka, "Because you are Tezuka."

Those ceruleaneyes told him so much, yet so little. Tezuka sighed, "I don't understand you."

Fuji's smile appeared practically out of nowhere, drying his hands with a paper towel, he skipped over to the bed and sat, "Nor I, often, nor anyone else, for that matter." He said, suddenly sober again, perhaps reminded of his conversation with his sister a few weeks before, "But you believe me?"

"I have no reason to not believe you." Was all Tezuka could think of to offer. "Unless you care to give me a reason."

"I could, but I don't want to." Fuji's pointer finger trailed idly up his arm to where the icepack was, "Does it still hurt, Tezuka?"

"…Not so much now."

"I'm glad." Fuji said, he laid his head lightly on his shoulder and didn't say anything else.

Had it been someone else, Oishi for instance, who made such a forward gesture, Tezuka would have resisted, but in Fuji's case, it didn't seem that disturbing, somehow. So he let it be.

-----

"…Ano, Tezuka-san," a timid voice called them back. "If you're feeling better, Yamato-senpai would like to see you back on the tennis courts…he said something…" she trailed off and gasped.

Tezuka turned, and to his fresh horror, saw a girl, (first year, by the looks of her), staring back at him with the strangest expression. He felt a gentle weight on his shoulder and realized why. Shoving Fuji off roughly, he stood. "…Please tell him I'll be there shortly."

"Uh, yes, I'll do that." The nameless freshman actually exited the room backwards. After she was officially out of earshot, Fuji pulled him down and put his head back where it was. "Saa, Tezuka-kun, that hurt. If you'd wanted me to move, you only have to ask."

"…Sorry."

"Were you ashamed of being seen with me like this? You can tell the truth, I won't get mad."

Tezuka dropped the icepack as an excuse to jar Fuji from his original position; he got to his feet once more and walked over to the sink, dropped the icepack (now half melted), and walked back, but did not sit. "…I probably will later, but not now."

Fuji tilted his head and looked at him, "…How soon is later?" he asked, lightly, as he got up as well.

"…Soon. But not yet."

Fuji laughed then, Tezuka assumed it was just for the sake of laughing, because this circumstance was anything but amusing. "Did Yamato-buchou really assign himself 100 laps, Tezuka?"

"Yes."

"You too? Even though you were the one attacked?"

"Yes."

Fuji took his hand; "I'll run them with you, those 100 laps."

Tezuka flinched, and instinctively shook the other's hand off. "It might take a while. Won't your sister worry? Like last time?"

"I'm walking home today." Fuji's reply was uncharacteristically vague, "No one's home."


End file.
